Good Night
by PhilSwiftImpersonator
Summary: SiivaGunner uploads his final rip and contemplates his meaning. A short, feels inducing, one-off based on the final rip of SiivaGunner's Youtube channel.


Siiva looked toward his computer screen, a blue light emanating from it. It shone into his eye, penetrating the darkness of the room and the window. The crickets sung their songs into the night, breaking the silence of the room and bringing a sense of peace to the little shack he called home. Well, it was more of a house now; not so much when he started renting.

"I finally did it," said SiivaGunner. "The most high quality video game rip."

He had been at this for Lord knows how long. Had it been months? Years? However long, he had been searching for this. A rip to surpass all other rips. Could he even call this high quality, though? It was more than that to him. The feeling resonated through his soul. He really had done it.

"This is my magnum opus."

 _'Indeed,'_ he thought. Hard as he tried, none of the software had come close to this. As with most things, it always came out better when done manually. Same was true with rips. A pang shot through his chest at the realization of his hard work. He was finished, wasn't he?

"I no longer need to upload high quality video game rips."

The words were lost to the ether, though he didn't mind much. Siiva let his brain dwell for a moment. All the hardships of this journey: had they been worth it? The dislike bombing, his trance (a rebooting perhaps?). It all seemed surreal to the statue. He lightly pulled at his eye-patch, feeling the soreness radiate for just a second. A scar from the take-down. He didn't let it bother him much. It looked okay enough.

He felt a sadness he had never felt before. 'Shouldn't I be thrilled? I mean, I've done the impossible.' They had a word for this. Melancholy, his grand dad used to tell him. His face betrayed his emotions, however. As his body stared blankly, his soul cried out for warmth.

Siiva grabbed at a picture on his desk, clutching it tightly to his chest. He had found it one day, sitting in the floor.

A man was smiling in the picture, black hair shining like polished steel. Ever since seeing it, Siiva's mind strained to find the identity of him. The glass cover had a signature, with a phrase written on the back.

 ** _"Chad Warden. Stay AQAP, friend. I'll miss you."_**

It was an enigma, a mystery. Some might even call it a sign. Either way, he felt attached to this photo, like if he let go, his world would fall apart. Siiva couldn't hold back the pricks of tears precipitating from his eye. If only he could shout back, and Chad would hear. But he knew that it wouldn't work. Chad seemed familiar, yet they had never met. At least he didn't remember doing so. There wasn't much time to check for an answer in between rips. He only got small breaks to interact with the fans, after all. Couldn't keep them waiting.

The statue kicked back his legs, rolling away from the desk he'd grown accustom to. The calming noises of the night filled his ears as he stood up, legs sore from lack of stretching. He walked to his right, eye focused at the door he rarely got to see.

"I haven't slept for so long, I forgot what dreams were like." Siiva said.

The thud of his feet on the floor pounded like a drum. The photos he had framed slowly panned by, a distant memory of his past. He remembered the last one, however. An old friend had sent it. Triple-Something he had recalled. It's been hanging for years. Or was it months? He still didn't remember. His passion for rips had taken over his life. Thousands of fans to please, thousands of rips to upload. His eyes felt like lead weights tied to his face, nearly drooping shut. Damn, he really was tired.

 _'Four thousand rips will do that to you I guess.'_ the man thought.

He grabbed hold of the handle to his door, feeling the cold metal send sharp shivers up his arm and throughout his spine. The computer beckoned for him to come back. He knew the fans were sad. Hell, he was crying too. All of this time spent, and for what? Just to end it all months later? He felt conflicted and pained. With all this feeling he had almost not caught one of them pass through. A warm feeling, one of acceptance, of reconciling. Was it? Hell if he knew. It was nice, though, he knew that much.

"Now I can finally rest." he told himself.

His legs gave way mid step, falling softly onto his couch, a small bit of dust kicking up from under-use. He looked out his window into the night sky, moonlight shimmering down on his face. A smile curled its way up his mouth, the world fading out slightly around his vision. Was it time already? He wasn't ready to go. He heard a sound resonate through his window and into his ears. Sleigh bells? As soon as they begun, they faded, as if they hadn't started to begin with.

Siiva's world faded further. He clutched the photo in his arms, wondering when he would wake up. The words of a friend echoed in his mind, filling him with tranquility.

 _'We had a gay old time, didn't we Joel?'_ he thought.

 **"Good night."**


End file.
